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Playing Winter

We’ve just come out of the summer’s first heat wave in central and southern N.C. Two days of hundred-degree heat that felt like 110! Short-lived, thank anyone’s lucky stars, and thanks to a cold front coming through last night bringing rain, northeast breezes, and lower temps and dew points.

I’m no fan of the heat, not anymore. Looking back on all those years living at the beach and being in the sun . . . it’s hard to believe that was me. Must have been another me. I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now, so sang The Byrds. Now I’m like a baby who needs bonneting. Have you noticed – today’s young parents seldom put either bonnets on their babies heads or socks on their feet? And many’s the time that I see those little sausage-legs uncovered, splotched with cold during the winter. Makes me want to “jerk a knot in somebody”! as my mama has been known to say.

No, I’m no fan of the heat. Not since The Episode. July ?, 2006 was a bad year. Seemed like a year. A hundred-degree day and me driving on Capital Boulevard at three in the afternoon when the air conditioner quit. I’ve not been the same since; all sorts of things changed the day of The Episode. Anticipatory panic, fear, and worry rides my running board* now. And so this past Tuesday and Wednesday, anticipating all sorts of potential heat horrors, I woke up the morning of the first wave and had the thought (I do believe it was given to me), “Play Winter.” And so I did! I had a blast. Damn the power bill, full steam, er “ice” ahead! Sweat pants, turtleneck, scarf, and down quilt for me, little blankies for Ginger. And so we weathered the weather, peaceably and with enjoyment, watching movies, reading, napping, skating across the kitchen floor. Late on the first afternoon, Gabe and Deana drove over with their own warm clothes and “The Princess Bride.” A great time was had by all.

Interesting how one can receive “permission” for different experiences, different ways of being. The “permission” comes from within and feels like grace. That’s what these two days were like. And oh my! The moment the storms rolled in late afternoon yesterday, I flung open doors and windows! Done playing winter, I put back on shorts and a t-shirt. The fan once again brought in night air, floating upon it the aroma of all-but gone gardenias, brought it to blow right into my face all night long while I slept with a foot (or two; sometimes both legs) hanging outside the two baby blue, baby down blankets I had stitched together to make one just long enough for me.

I’ve spent most of today on the porch. It’s 2:30 and only now beginning to be a bit warmer than I prefer. But my close friend the little porch fan, “Cool-Breeze” (as the TM on the front says) is doing its job. I’ll stay here awhile longer, pushing the envelope, but not close to anything kin to The Episode. Hellfire, no way! And I’ll read a bit more. Right now it’s May Sarton’s Eighty Two, A Journal and Neale Walsch’s unusually written biography of Conscious Evolutionist Barbara Marx Hubbard, entitled The Mother of Invention. I highly recommend the latter. And in a while, I’ll get myself ready to drive to Durham for a first-in-a-week adjustment at the chiropractor’s – am I ready for that, or what?

According to the weatherman, it looks like I’ll be playing Winter again next week. The game just might get old. But I ‘spec it will be necessary many times between now and October.

May the force of a northeast gale be with you.

*A running board was a wide “perch” extending beyond the doors of cars many years ago. Parallel to the ground, one could stand upon the running board, hanging on to the door post as the car went down the road. I miss running boards. Oh, and vent windows, little windows in the door that rotated inward to allow the wind to funnel right to your face. Yes, the good old days were good for lots of reasons. Two of the best were running boards and vent windows.